Arguments and Excuses
by JazziePerson
Summary: Ros' thoughts at the end of 8x03. Not very pleased with the title. Rated T to be safe. Please review.


Author's Note: This definitely didn't come out the way it was supposed to, but then again, I kind of like it. I just sort of went with it to see what would happen. And it came out different than I expected. Ah well. I hope you enjoy it and please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ros, Jo, Spooks or anything in here.

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Arguments and Excuses

There were many things she could've done. She could've been a dancer, she could've been an accountant. She could be working for her father in a newly enforced police state. She could be dead. She would be dead if it wasn't for Adam.

There were many things she'd never do now. Well, probably not. Things that maybe she'd wanted to do at some point, but would never do now. Because of the job. The damn job that they all worked so hard at to protect people and protect their country and still it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to just save people and save the country, because sometimes, they lost their own people. And that just wasn't fair.

And sometimes, what was even worse, was that they had to be the ones who made that loss happen. She'd killed Jo. She could say a hundred times that it was what she had to do, that it was her job, that Jo knew she was going to die and knew that she was going to die at that moment, but it wouldn't change anything. And it wouldn't make her feel any better about it.

Because of the decisions she'd made, she was where she was and she'd done what she had done. Some of it she regretted, some she didn't. Like she'd said to Harry, regrets too few to mention. It didn't do to dwell on the past. It was the past; it was over. There was nothing she could do about it. She could wish and hope but none of it did any good. She couldn't change it.

But still, every night when she closed her eyes, she saw Jo's face, saw herself fire the gun and saw herself kill Jo. All the counselling and help in the world couldn't change that. She'd killed Jo. And even if she ran over that day's events and pointed out over and over again that Jo had known what was going to happen, that Jo had known that it was the right thing to do, it still didn't make the damndest bit of difference. What had happened had happened and whether they could change it or not didn't matter because it had happened and it was imprinted in everyone's brain now. It would never go away.

She didn't want pity. That was the last thing she wanted but she saw when she looked at people, she saw the look of concern and pity in their eyes and she just wanted to scream. She could see them thinking, see their minds ticking over how she could've made such an impossible decision, and made it in a second, without blinking. But again, she'd argue, it was what she'd had to do.

There were other points to be argued too. If she hadn't done what she'd done, Jo would've died anyway. They all would've died. All those men with their bulging bank accounts, the hostage takers, herself and Jo. They'd all been in there. They all would've died, not to mention CO19 setting up above them. So many families would've been torn apart, so many wives given the news that their husbands were dead. But for whatever reason she did the job she did, she didn't care much for those sorts of people. True, she protected them, but she didn't have to like them. Without those sorts of people, the Global Economy would collapse and all the banks would go into freefall. It was her job to stop that, but still...

They hadn't died. They'd lived to see another day. Well, most of them. But their job was never without casualties. It came with the territory. But most of those people hadn't died. Because of what she'd done, because of what Jo had given up. It didn't make it fair though, and while she was alone in her head, she could think that it wasn't always worthwhile either. Was it fair to put someone in the line of fire to protect the masses? Maybe. But it was different if you were the one with the gun in your hands. Everything changed then.

If it had been the other way around, if she and Jo had swapped places and it had been her grappling the gun out of his hands, if it had been her who had to die, she wouldn't have wasted a second in ordering Jo to pull the trigger. If it had been a random person in Jo's place, she would've felt it but maybe it wouldn't have affected her so badly as it had Jo.

She could try and convince herself time and time again that she didn't feel anything, that she really did have cold water running through her veins as someone had once said – Juliet, was it? – but really, who shot someone they knew and felt nothing?

But there was a difference between feeling something and not letting others see it. Because that's who she was, she didn't let people in, she didn't let them see the pain that floated almost benignly under the surface. That wasn't her. And it never would be.

Because she was Ros Myers, Section Chief of Section D MI5 and if she had to hide everything she felt to get the job done, then she would. Because that was who she was.

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Author's Note: What do you think? Please review. Yes, that button there. Go on, you can do it.

Jaz x


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